Stella Does as She Pleases
by Gray Autumn
Summary: Jonathan takes on Stella alone, and loses miserably. She doesn't seem too keen on killing him, however. One shot. Stella/Jonathan. Rated M for a mature sexual situation and violence.


"Umph!" A young blonde man in a bright red coat went flying into the hard stone wall. He was being beaten, badly.

"For a Belmont descendant, you don't put up much of a fight." His enemy, a beautiful, purple-haired vampirette with one red eye and one green smirked coldly.

"Shut up!" he yelled in rage, then rashly charged her. This attack ended in a similar way to his previous one. She dealt a fist to his stomach, causing him to gasp and crumple onto the stone floor.

"It's hopeless." She remarked with glee before stomping the 3-inch heel of her shoe into his back. He screamed. She laughed.

"Jonathan Morris, the great vampire hunter! Where's that little girl of yours? Even she puts up more of a fight than you do!"

Jonathan choked back tears of rage and gritted his teeth. Charlotte. How glad he was that she wasn't there. Of course, they stood a better chance against the vampirette Stella fighting together, but… Somehow, this fight in particular, he felt was his. Perhaps it was because, of the twin sisters, Stella and Loretta, Stella was the weapons-master. Loretta was a magic wielder. Charlotte was a sorceress. The fight was his. Why then, was his face being ground into the stone?

His strength had dropped dramatically since the beginning of the fight. She had known his weakness, and had exploited it to an extreme. His quick anger. Insult him. Talk trash about his deceased father. Threaten Charlotte's safety and refer to her in derogative terms. All had compelled him into a blind rage that she had easily neutralized with a swift blow, a quick slice of her sword. Every time. Sure, he'd gotten a few hits in, but most were minor cuts that simply tore the fabric of her dress, and not all the way through it, at that.

And now, he couldn't bring himself to stand up again. He looked up. She was there, towering over him, long, purple-gloved arms folded across the bust of her full-length dress. The upper portion of the dress was dark purple, the lower a mild pink. The top of it was low and revealing, showing a large portion of her larger breasts. She looked down her nose at him, sneering.

And then, she reached down and grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling him up. Enraged again, he swung out, and managed to catch her in the shoulder with his fist, his sword recently lost from his intimate encounter with the wall.

For the first time since their fight began, when Jonathan had been running through the castle and had stumbled across the room, she expressed something other than her classic I-am-superior-lowly-human attitude. She had, much like Jonathan, a blind rage of her own. She screamed, not in pain, but primal anger, and shoved him so hard he fell back onto the ground. Immediately, she was on top of him, slapping and punching. Jonathan struggled back, fighting hard to get her off of him, thinking again of Charlotte, alone in the castle… No. She was with Vincent, getting supplies. He'd asked her to wait there, while he scouted out some of the castle. She had agreed reluctantly, worried for him not only as a partner but a love interest, although Jonathan was unaware of the latter. All he was aware of now was the screaming monster on top of him that was attempting to gouge his eyes out while repeatedly slamming his head against the stone.

After what seemed to be an eternity of struggling, which most likely was only a few minutes, Stella stopped the abuse abruptly and looked at him. His hair was a twisted mess, dirty and stained in places with his blood. Blood. Bright red on ivory. Blue eyes narrowed with hatred. Nostrils flaring slightly, with anger and exertion. Chest heaving, jaw locked tightly. And the beautiful crimson stuff decorating his temple, the corner of his lip.

She too, had been weakened significantly by the struggle, but had managed to hide it better than he. Now, a hunger welled up within her, so strong she could feel her lips instinctively pull back, baring her fangs. He shuddered, and tried to pull away. But he was exhausted, dazed. There wasn't much fight left in him. He was as good as hers.

Hers. She didn't want to kill him right away. Because, although she tried to ignore it, another hunger grew within her. It was not a lust for blood, but for flesh. Their fight had awakened something primal within her. Finally, she realized what it was. Although her adversary, Jonathan was young, handsome, strong (although not as strong as she!), and had fresh, sweet blood pulsing through him. Vampires had abilities to seduce humans. She hadn't bothered with them before because she was confident she could win the fight with a silver tongue and brute strength, and she did. Now, she used them for her own pleasure.

She inched down on Jonathan, until her groin was resting on top of his. She looked him straight in the eye, and drew him in. It didn't take long for him to become captivated. Then, she began to rub, back and forth, moaning softly as she did so. In no time at all she felt something grow underneath her and stiffen. Yet, he was afraid. His eyes were wide and he trembled. She continued to rub against him, taking her gloves off and rubbing his face, moaning a little louder, brushing her cheek against his, contorting her face into one of want. He was beginning to understand.

_RRIIIIIIIP. _She tore off what was left of his coat and shirt, and began to massage his nipples. They stiffened under her touch and he groaned, his eyes beginning to haze over. Lust was beginning to consume him as well. She smiled.

"N-no, I… I shouldn't." he protested, weakly, at her touches. "WH-why?" he breathed hard, his speech slurred by his moans. "A-ah!" She was planting kisses all over his torso, paying special attention to his neck and chest, and she began to work her way down.

He looked down at her, unbelieving. She stopped at his waist, though, and came back up to plant her lips on his, with such force that a dull thud sounded as his head hit the stone again. She squeezed his jaw hard with one hand to open his teeth, and he relented, breaking his last piece of resistance. Stella explored his mouth to her content, and he groaned again, involuntarily, and fought with her for control. She won, and then remembered something and suddenly pulled away. He needed to breathe, but she didn't, so she'd nearly suffocated him. Barely giving him any time to recover, as he was still panting heavily, his chest bobbing up and down hard, she leaned in close again, although this time she put her chest right in front of his face. She bobbed up and down slightly, moaning again, and ran her hands over her own body, as if she was showing him what she wanted him to do.

Jonathan understood what she wanted- to be free of that confining dress. He had long since lost any trace of fear, disgust, or moral code, and was completely consumed by want for her. He grabbed her dress straps and pulled down roughly. One pale breast was revealed to him, the other still caught, but practically spilling out. Stella reached down and pulled it free, then rubbed both of them for a while, playing with herself to watch the expressions of desire and envy (envy of her hands!) cross Jonathan's face. Very suddenly, she removed her hands and placed them behind his head, coaxing him towards her intended target. He didn't need to be asked twice.

He scooted out from under her slightly so he could sit up a little more. Then, he roughly gripped one breast, and enveloped a large portion of the other in his mouth. Stella made a strange sound of pleasure and sighed, stroking his hair with one hand and covering his hand that massaged her with the other. His tongue and hand moved rhythmically, more deliberate than she'd expect from a man his age.

"Harder." She whispered at his ear, and he obeyed as he licked and gripped, kissed and massaged.

She moaned openly and loudly as encouragement, and when she felt satisfied with his work on one breast, she'd pull away slowly and direct him to the other. A thin trail of saliva marked the closeness between his lips and her body.

When she was through with that stimulation, she pressed one hand on either of his shoulders until he understood that she had tired of that act. She got off of him and stood up, beckoning to him to follow. They crossed the wide, open room until they got to a wall, where she sat him down and pulled his pants and boots off. Having a moment of clarity and shame, Jonathan hurriedly covered his crotch with both hands, but removed them gratefully after Stella began rubbing the insides of his legs, slowly working them outward.

Stella reached up her dress and removed every garment, besides the dress itself that separated her body from Jonathan's, and took off her shoes as well. She then pulled Jonathan's legs apart gently, looking him over. He averted eye contact at first, nervous. Her hand went forward, and reached in between his legs. He gasped and jumped. He was perfectly ready for what they were about to do, evident in his… Posture. The fact that she'd just reached out and touched him had taken him off guard. He wanted more. She moved forward, lifted her dress, showed a little more of herself to him, and then dropped it, covering both of their legs and sensitive areas.

Nearly ready, she took his hand, stuck a couple of his fingers in her mouth, salivated on them, and then guided his hand up her dress. Jonathan wasn't sure about this part. But he found the place, and complied with what she wanted, even though his strokes weren't expert or 100% rhythmic. Now that she felt ready, she hooked her legs around his and lowered herself onto him slowly. Both cried out- him because she was cold and the experience was new, her because he was slightly bigger than she thought, although pain wasn't an issue. She set the pace, going slowly at first to get accustomed to him. Jonathan watched his hands roam over her bare skin and up her dress, giving her thighs an occasional squeeze and pushing them apart, and occasionally touching himself. She played with his chest and bent down occasionally to kiss his neck or give him another powerful kiss on the mouth.

He began to tense first. She could sense the pressure building within him, so she stopped, just to see what he would do. He was sweating profusely by then, from the battle and the sex, and he emitted some sort of animal noise and bucked upward, desperately trying to re-establish the rhythm. She smirked in triumph, her chest bouncing more as she came down harder and harder. He finally winced a little, so she let up. Soon after, she felt him go still suddenly, and she looked closely to see what was the matter, but kept pushing. Suddenly, his body went rigid as he gripped either side of her waist, pulling her down as he pushed himself up, finding a release that seemed to leave him senseless, emitting a soft cry as he did so. But she wasn't done.

"Don't stop!" she demanded, but he didn't stop, as his was trying to prolong his own pleasure. She found release soon afterwards, and prolonged her experience by reaching underneath his buttocks and pushing him upwards, forcing him farther. They were both done. She collapsed against him, her head on his shoulder, both of them out of breath and unable to follow a single thought.

She recovered faster than he, and when she did she pulled out a small knife and swiftly opened a vein on his neck. He protested, weakly, but she kissed him encouragingly and took her fill of his warm, sweet blood, lapping up also the leftover blood from their fight. It brought her strength back like no other blood she'd ever had, and left a pleasant aftertaste. Jonathan, now weaker than ever before from battle, sex, and blood draining, seemed to be dying. She could have left him to die, but she wanted to taste that blood, those lips… Once more. Still partially nude, she carried his naked form to a warp point, and left him at the one just above the City of Haze. She figured Charlotte would find him sooner rather than later and even changed her voice to where she sounded like Jonathan and called her name. Sure enough, she heard the clack-clack of high heels, and, as a little keepsake, she tore a long strip off the bottom of her dress and covered Jonathan with it to make him minimally decent. She then teleported away, contemplating whether or not to tell her sister of her lewd behavior.

Even when in the Master's Keep, Stella could have sworn she heard a woman's voice far, far below in the castle scream:

"JONATHAN?!"


End file.
